Hating Cain Read online

  I was just trying to be nice, not give him debts.

  “Looks like the party’s started already,” Johnny remarked as we turned up the driveway to Cherry’s place. Rows of fairy lights hung across the front side of the house and trailed towards the backyard. I heard Cherry’s enthusiastic voice greeting all the people gathered at the door.

  “Cain! There you are, thanks so much for coming,” she said, giving me a brief hug. She nodded at Johnny, pleasantly surprised as she took in his new appearance. “Johnny, you too, come on in.”

  I made a mental note to thank Kaitlyn again for pulling some strings and allowing Johnny to accompany me. I’d been to Cherry’s place multiple times before so I strode easily through the font foyer down to the back, but Johnny stuck by my side like a lost lamb.

  “Don’t worry, nothing’s gonna jump out and grab you,” I teased as we passed into the backyard.

  Soft, low-tempo music drifted around the neatly trimmed hedges. The gazebo was decorated with more fairy lights, giving the yard a whimsical glow. Glasses clinked as people poured drinks and chatted.

  Besides the music, the air was full of the sound of women’s voices, some I recognized and some I didn’t. Though Rosecreek was a prestigious community and I prided myself on at least being civil to those I didn’t like, there were still plenty of folks I didn’t know personally.

  When Johnny and I appeared, all the women turned to see who had arrived. I smiled brightly and waved. “Hello, everyone.”

  Their eyes flickered from me to Johnny, who looked absolutely ill-equipped for the attention. I willed him to sustain his confidence and carry his head high.

  Thankfully for him, Cherry came through with the last late stragglers and demanded everyone’s attention.

  After greeting the crowd and thanking everyone for coming, she started mingling with the guests. A woman in an apron made rounds offering little finger foods to everyone. She looked over Johnny with thinly veiled interest as he took a pig-in-a-blanket and tossed it in his mouth, and I felt that familiar curl of jealousy again.

  Which, I reminded myself, was ridiculous. We could barely be described as friends, for fuck’s sake.

  A pair of women approached us with polite but somber expressions.

  “Johnny, is that you?” one asked.

  “Yes?” he replied warily.

  “We were so sorry to hear about your parents,” she murmured, putting a hand to her chest. “It was so tragic.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I see you’ve moved back home, though,” she went on, nodding. “That must be nice, isn’t it? Being back where you grew up?”

  I watched Johnny carefully out of the corner of my eye. Was he going to lie to this woman?

  “It’s interesting,” he admitted. “It feels different than when I was a kid.”

  I held my tongue even though I was desperate for him to elaborate.

  After that exchange, a few other women came over to express their condolences when they found out Johnny was the Hunters’ son. He talked to everyone politely, never giving any indication that he was overwhelmed by the attention or uncomfortable with the topic. I was weirdly proud of him. If it were me, I would’ve buckled under the pressure by now.

  Soon another familiar face approached us. Kaitlyn smiled and shuffled something beneath her wool shawl. A second later, the yellow head of a chihuahua appeared.

  “Noodles!” I said, giving the dog a scratch under the chin.

  “Having fun, you two?” she asked.

  “Absolutely,” I said. “Actually, Kaitlyn, I wanted to thank you for talking to Cherry. You know, to get Johnny invited.”

  Kaitlyn had a twinkle in her eyes. “Of course. Anything for a friend of Rowan’s.”

  “Who’s Rowan?” Johnny asked.

  “My son.” She smiled. “Oh, that’s right, Johnny, you’re new again. Dark hair, kinda quiet? A little bit like you, actually.” She laughed. “You might not have seen him around because he doesn’t live with me. Anyway, I invited him, but you’ll have to excuse him for not showing up. He’s a bit of a hermit even though his partner’s always trying to get him out of the house.” She playfully rolled her eyes and took a swig of her drink. “Good luck with that!”

  I smiled. I hadn’t seen Rowan much since he met Alec and they hit it off, but I knew from his texts that the two of them were like peas in a pod. It was what Rowan deserved after all the hardship with his ex. I still remembered the night he came to me and cried on my shoulder after running away from that asshole.

  But as happy as I was for Rowan, I was also a little bit jealous. While he was off living the romantic dream with Alec, I was stuck in friendship-slash-enemy limbo with Johnny. When was it going to be my turn for a happily ever after, damnit?

  After Kaitlyn left, Johnny tugged on my sleeve.

  “Cain,” Johnny said in a low voice as I grabbed another hors d'oeuvre.

  “Yeah?”

  “Why are there only women at this party again?”

  I shrugged. “You know, girls’ night?”

  “Don’t know if you noticed, but we aren’t girls,” he muttered.

  “Oh, lighten up. Kaitlyn got me a special invitation because–”

  Cherry suddenly appeared in my peripheral vision with an eager grin and asked, “Enjoying the party, you two?”

  “Definitely! It’s beautiful what you’ve done with the yard, and the food’s amazing,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Johnny agreed, dipping his head. “Thanks again for inviting me.”

  I noticed the way Cherry looked at Johnny now, barely hiding the way her eyes roamed his body. It was a stark contrast to the other day where she seemed afraid Johnny was going to mug her and steal her purse. Thankfully this time I didn’t get jealous, because I didn’t think Johnny was interested in cougars.

  “I’m sorry again about the other day,” Johnny went on quietly. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

  “Oh, not at all,” Cherry insisted. “It was just a misunderstanding. I’m so glad to have you both here at our girls-and-gays night!”

  She laughed at her own comment as Johnny choked.

  “Oh, shoot!” I cried as I remembered something. “Cherry, I totally forgot, I bought some champagne to bring over. Do you mind if I run back and grab it? I’ll be ten minutes, tops.”

  “Sure, dear, of course,” Cherry said, then waved a quick goodbye before scurrying off to mingle with other partygoers.

  “Sorry, Johnny, I’ll be right back,” I said to him.

  I jogged back to the house as quickly as possible and found the two bottles of champagne, both gift-wrapped with fancy bows. I walked on the way back to avoid jostling the liquid too much, and because I didn't want to show up drenched in sweat.

  This party isn’t going badly at all, I thought. And it’s actually kinda nice to have Johnny with me. I wonder if he’s at least having a decent time, too.

  It deeply relieved me to see there was no bad blood between Cherry and Johnny. Whatever her initial impression of him was, her opinion had definitely changed when she saw him dressed up and polite.

  I thought back to the clothing store where Johnny had admitted he felt like he didn’t belong there. I winced, remembering Cherry’s first reaction and what happened at the grocery store. It wasn’t like Rosecreek went out of its way to welcome Johnny back with open arms. I understood in hindsight why he would’ve felt that way.

  But things were different now. They were changing for the better.

  Maybe Johnny and I could actually forge a real friendship.

  With an optimistic smile on my face, I made my way back to Cherry’s house with a bottle of champagne in each hand. I wanted to deliver them to her personally and apologize for my outburst the other day.

  I paused outside the front door to wipe a mild sweat off my brow, fixed my hair, then entered.

  And what I saw there almost made me drop and shatter the champagne.

  15

  Johnny<
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  When Cain mumbled something and ran off, I’d barely heard him. A dull mist lingered around me. I felt numb and dazed by Cherry’s comment, like an unexpected blow to the back of my head.

  Girls-and-gays night.

  Those innocent words sent me hurtling through time, and suddenly I was seventeen, alone and scared. Betrayed. Knowing everything in my life was about to crumble and collapse into a pile of rubble.

  Gripped by the urge to run, I backed up and disappeared back into the house. All the lights were off, and the only glow came from the fairy lights in the yard. I shrank against a wall and struggled to calm myself down. My shirt felt increasingly tight as my heart hammered, doing sick lurches like it wanted me to be ill.

  Anger burned my fear away. Why did Cain run off? Had he set me up on purpose? He’d led me out into the ocean, then cut the cord and left me to drown alone.

  Of course he did. He’d done it once before, and I was an idiot to think he wouldn’t do it again. Nothing had changed in the past ten years.

  People in Rosecreek didn’t change.

  When I was twelve, I knew I wasn’t straight.

  In reality, I’d probably known longer, but when you’re a kid only just starting to navigate sexuality, you don’t have the right words to describe what you feel deep down in your soul.

  I didn’t understand when adults would look at me and a friend–who happened to be a girl–and make that insidious face. The smug, satisfied expression that I knew in hindsight meant aw, won’t they make a cute couple?

  And I didn’t understand what it meant when I looked at certain boys in my class beyond a strangely pleasant chest-tightening sense of warmth.

  But what I did understand, and what all kids inherently understand, is how my parents felt about it.

  Growing up, my parents had been caring in a compassionless sort of way. Probably the type of people who shouldn’t have had kids in the first place, but society pressured them to–after all, who else would they leave their millions of dollars to when they passed except an heir?

  Dad would collapse on the couch after work, flick on the TV, and complain whenever the topic veered anywhere near gay territory.

  Mom would lean against the kitchen island, heating up take-out she’d gotten on the way home, and chime in with her own nasty remarks.

  They would bounce off each other, creating a maelstrom of hatred towards things they didn’t understand right there in the living room.

  Right there in front of their gay son.

  I heard their comments. Kids always hear them.

  I remembered the first time I spoke up, barely fourteen. Old enough to be defiant, but maybe not wise enough to keep my mouth shut yet. Dad was ranting about some football player coming out as gay, insisting that kind of shit didn’t deserve to be aired in public, let alone on the fucking news.

  The words leapt from my mouth before I could stop them. “Why do you care so much if he’s gay?”

  Without looking at me, Dad muted the TV. The air went still. Beside me, Mom let out a thin sigh.

  “Because it’s sick, son,” Dad finally said.

  At this point, I felt defensive. Maybe I didn’t know I was gay exactly, but I sure as fuck knew I wasn’t straight. Besides, I’d known gay kids at my school, and many gay celebrities. I felt like I had to defend them somehow.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Johnathan,” Mom snapped.

  “What?”

  She shot me a sharp look, like if I was smart I’d shut up already. But I didn’t care. I wanted to know a real reason.

  Dad finally turned around. Even casually sitting on the couch, he looked as menacing as an all-powerful tyrant.

  “Because it’s wrong. We’re not talking about this anymore,” he said quietly. “Understand?”

  The hairs on the back of my neck bristled. “No.”

  Mom let out a soft gasp as Dad stood abruptly and stormed over to me. I didn’t understand his opinion any better when he towered over me, exerting his strength, but if he was only trying to intimidate me, then he definitely succeeded.

  “Understand?” Dad repeated, his cold voice making it clear that this wasn’t up for debate.

  But I didn’t understand, and I didn’t want to lie. I was stuck between two beliefs.

  “I just don’t get it, is all,” I mumbled.

  Dad’s firm hand landed on my shoulder, squeezing just hard enough to be painful. “You don’t have to understand, boy. Just know that those people are sick in the head.”

  Something vulnerable must have flashed behind my eyes, because the next words out of his mouth cut me like a knife.

  “All I’m saying is, I better not find out my son’s gay.” He tightened his grip, digging into my skin nearly hard enough to bruise, and uttered even more quietly, “I’ll be pissed if I do.”

  He let go. I exhaled a shaky breath. Mom was avoiding both of us, cutting carrots on the opposite side of the kitchen like her husband hadn’t just manhandled and intimidated her son. When she didn’t stand up for me, I could only assume she shared the same feelings.

  That was the day I stopped feeling safe in my own home.

  I didn’t stop feeling like I was gay, but I started making a conscious effort to hide it. I avoided looking at guys, full stop. Unless we were having a conversation, my gaze was elsewhere, and even then sometimes I stared off in a different direction. Maybe it made me seem inattentive, or like I didn’t really give a shit, but my safety was more important than other people’s feelings.

  Girls were a different story. In hindsight, I might’ve accidentally led a few girls on in my attempt to seem less gay. But I never had a girlfriend, much to my parents’ dismay.

  I earned a reputation as a lone wolf. Cold and stoic. It became my identity, and it was safer than my identity being gay.

  It wasn’t just my parents’ comments. The whole Rosecreek environment was hostile–overwhelmingly straight, not a gay couple or gender nonconforming person in sight. It was probably paradise for my dad. Growing up in this gated community, gay jokes ran rampant, and when gay men weren’t on the end of snide humor, then they were desexed into being cute and harmless–to women at least.

  As a teenager, I absorbed it all like a sponge. Internalized it. Every day I grew more bitter and angry–not just at everyone else, but at myself for being this way.

  The only thing that got me through were my friends, and my closest of all was Nash. We’d grown apart after I left, but Nash was my closest buddy in high school. Hanging out with him made me forget my shitty home life. But I hated going over to his place because his stepbrother Lucas was almost as bad as my own father.

  Still, I tried to ignore Lucas’ homophobic comments, because I’d already learned to keep my mouth shut, and I wasn’t about to upset my best friend by starting a fight at his place.

  Something cold curled in my gut when I remembered that Cain had been my friend, too.

  I remembered the day we met, me saving him from Lucas and his gang who had nothing better to do than skip class and bully younger kids. His homophobic remarks still made my blood boil. If he hadn’t been Nash’s stepbrother, and if I hadn’t kept my feelings on such a tight lockdown, I might’ve given in to the urge to punch Lucas’ teeth in that day.

  Cain’s face popped into my mind–the vulnerable kid from ten years ago. The one who looked up at me with raw admiration.

  I didn't know at the time just how cruel he truly was.

  My fists clenched tighter, my nails digging into my skin. I’d calmed down enough to breathe again, but my shirt still felt suffocating. I grunted and undid a few buttons, revealing a white undershirt beneath it.

  I had no reason to stay at the party. Cain had run off, and I wasn’t about to stay here and be the only gay at the function. Just an exotic animal in a cage, a freak in their eyes.

  But as I turned to leave, a figure stood in the dim light of the hall–a man. One I recognized.

  “Johnny?” Nash asked, his
voice unchanged from his teenaged years. Maybe a little rougher, less playful.

  “Nash?” I said. “What are you doing here?”

  “Could ask you the same thing.” Nash leaned casually against the banister. “So, you really moved back, huh?”

  “Yeah.” I guessed he really didn’t notice me the other day at the mall. “I didn’t know you were still around. I would’ve wanted to catch up.”

  His lips quirked. “Yeah, I’m still here. I didn't expect to see you back after you left.” His gaze, unobscured by the sunglasses this time, softened. “Sorry about your folks.”

  I snorted. “It’s fine. You knew how they were.”

  He nodded. “You get their place?”

  “Yeah. I’m living there now. It’s pretty empty, though. It feels weird.” I laughed. “Maybe you can come over sometime. It’ll be like old times, but better without my parents hovering.”

  Nash hesitated at my invitation. “I’ll see. I’m pretty busy these days with work and everything.” He rolled his shoulders, staring off to the side. “Did you really come here with Cain?”

  My mood soured. I nodded stiffly.

  Nash shot me an uncomfortable look. “Don’t tell me you guys are friends or something now.”

  I bristled at the word. “No. Never.”

  That seemed to satisfy him. “Good, ‘cause that’d be crazy.” He huffed out a laugh. “I see him around, you know? With his rat dog at the park. Don’t know why he brings that thing there.”

  My mouth tightened. Cain was one thing, but Roxy had nothing to do with him or what he did. Not wanting to contribute anything, I just shrugged.

  “By the way, if I were you, I wouldn’t believe a thing he says,” Nash muttered. “He’s so fucking lonely and desperate for attention he’ll latch on to anyone. Remember what happened last time?”

  The mention of it made my skin crawl. “Yeah.”

  “Do you want me to talk to him?” Nash suddenly offered, a hard edge to his voice. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you anymore.”

  Something about his tone put me off. Despite everything Cain had done in the past, and how I felt about him, I didn’t like hearing Nash talk about him that way–like he was threatening to hurt him. The idea of it made my stomach churn.